Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,
And whether he run or fly they know not whether;
For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings.
骋走远去駹住目；
风微毳动再竟奔；
敢与狂飙争大路，
疾驰是假飞是真；
鬃前尾后风嚎啸，
翩若起舞长毛跳。